This morning I wake up and realize the assassins have failed.

Hmm.

I also begin to stir and realize something I’ve been trying to ignore all weeeknd.

I’m feeling under the weather.

Grr.

What a stupid expression.

For clarification purposes, I meant “under the weather” not Grr, Hmm, mulling over, I digress or anything else I use on a regular basis.

Under the weather.

If you think about it, aren’t we always?

Do any of us happen to reside in the stratosphere? On Mars? A space station? Heaven?

I don’t think so.

I do know of a few people who have their heads up in the clouds.

They get a free pass from this rant.

After all, it’s quite the hardship residing on Planet Dense.

I digress.

I know I’m not doing well when my dad, the person who didn’t realize for 4 days that I had a hair colour change transforming me from a ginger to a minion says; “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine!” My voice cracks like a pre-pubscent teen.

So, alas, in spite of my better judgment, I make the schlep to work.

Typically, I’m not that person that goes to work when they’re sick. Today’s that special day where either tomorrow I feel better, or I get really sick.

I want to draw your attention to the main entrance of the Hamilton Go Centre:


Not bad, right? I’m not sure if its striving to look vintage or it just hasn’t been renovated since the Nixon administration.

This entrance reminds me of some type of 70’s sitcom I’m likely too young to remember.

I’m transported back into simpler times, with the ironic Art Deco bones of the place.

Right up until I look down and see this:


Ah, Hamilton. Just in case I forgot where I was for a moment, we have ourselves a Money Mart sign.

Hamilton has the best ratio of money lending establishments to constituents in all of Canada.

It’s loosely a 1:5 reference.

Hamilton’s population is 520 000.

If you remember anything about my town, remember that.

As I wait to board my 6:18 big green chariot, I wonder, why is it never here on time?

I look over at the 6:48 train, glaring at me in amusement.

I realize it might have said something snarky.

I’d like to think the 6:18 is the fun loving, happy, party animal younger sibling that doesn’t try to outshine its staunch, burdened by responsibility 6:48 older brother.

As I await for my train to arrive, I think about my blog.

Long before Lidz On The Go was created, I’d observe some interesting characters on this big green chariot.

The kind of people you’d like to blog about some day.

Enter the Reply All Renegade.

It was my first morning back from a work hiatus.

Almost a month since train travel.

There I was, mulling over the rawness of the past few weeks, when a lady boards the train at Aldershot sits across from me.

She’s quite literally the human equivalent to the Tazmanian Devil.

Loud. Boisterous. Obtrusive. Annoying.

She doesn’t notice me glaring at her, as she’s preoccupied with her aggressive phone conversation.

At 6:45.

Conversation being a loose reference,  as it sounds like a one sided monologue.

I’m about to give her the benefit of the doubt, perhaps she’s really passionate about her work, perhaps she’s on a tight deadline when I hear her say:

“TIM! WHY DIDN’T YOU REPLY ALL!?”

This woman becomes instantly dead to me.

Poor Tim.

I can’t imagine why he’d want to exclude her from any conversation.

The next phrases out of her mouth sound like a hit parade from the Stephen Covey fan club.

In the minutes that follow, she references teams, the need for collaboration, transparency and transparency.

With every adjective, I wince in pain.

These words cutting deep into my soul.

“WE NEED TO REPLY ALL SO THAT EVERYONE ON BOARD IS ON THE SAME PAGE!!”

Ugh.

It’s like this woman went to a Management seminar in 1995 and never quite recovered.

I’m also annoyed that she feels interesting enough to combine idioms.

If everyone on board is on the exact same page, which of these morons is steering the synergetic ship?

I mull this over.

There are few instances in life where one needs to Reply All.

I don’t know Tim but I’m sure he had his reasons.

A few minutes later, I’m relieved to be parting this train in Oakville.

The Reply All Renegade follows me.

I gotta hand it to her, she’s still on the phone with Tim, spewing out corporate propaganda.

She is nothing if not tenacious.

We’re neck and neck leaving the train.

I have half a mind to try my best to avoid her and get the upper hand.

I disappear into a crowd on the next platform.

After all, there’s safety in numbers.

🙂

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One thought on “The Reply All Renegade

  1. Poor Lidz! Welcome to plagueland! Hope it passes quickly and you don’t lose your voice.

    Management seminar in 1995 LMAO 😆😆😆 Sounds about right!

    Like

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